


One In A Million

by mrs_d



Series: Snailed It! [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (I feel like a soulmark AU tag would not go amiss here so), Alternate Universe - Professors, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Science, Snailmark AU, Snails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:32:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8536819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: “Poor Falcon. Like any snail, they want to mate, but, you see, the way the shell grows determines the layout of a snail’s entire body. Which means that Falcon’s backwards, and the way they mate is, too. They’re basically a mirror-image of other snails. So they’ve tried, but—”“But their bits are in the wrong position,” Riri concluded.“More or less,” Sam agreed. “They need another counter-clockwise snail to mate with, and those are incredibly rare.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a rough week. Here's some escapist fluff. 
> 
> Inspired by [the story of Jeremy](http://www.cbc.ca/radio/asithappens/as-it-happens-friday-edition-1.3814209/jeremy-the-snail-is-rare-lonely-and-looking-for-love-1.3814217), a lonely snail at Nottingham University, and [Lefty, their one-in-a-million partner](http://www.cbc.ca/radio/asithappens/as-it-happens-tuesday-edition-1.3841878/despite-one-in-a-million-odds-jeremy-the-lonely-snail-has-found-a-lover-1.3841881).

Falcon made their way up the glass wall of their tank. Sam reached in with wet hands and carefully slid one finger under Falcon’s body, easing them up into the palm of his hand. He grinned triumphantly at Riri, the campus radio host and one of his best first-year students, who smiled back a little nervously.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” Sam confirmed. Riri took a deep breath and hit the red button on her recorder.

“Good morning, D.C.,” she began, and Sam was impressed at how mature and professional she sounded. “This is Riri Williams with Science Talk on WHUR-FM at Howard University. Now, normally, I’d be telling you about the latest tech news, but since Earth Day is this week, I’m spending some time in the biology building with Dr. Sam Wilson. Dr. Wilson, would you mind telling us a little about your research?”

“Of course,” replied Sam, careful to speak clearly in the direction of Riri’s recorder. “I study malacology and conchology, which is to say invertebrates and their shells. My specialty is snails.”

“I can see that,” Riri said. “Your lab’s full of them. But this one on your hand, your little friend here, who’s he?”

“Oh, this is Falcon,” Sam said. “A common garden snail, average sized, but possibly very important for the scientific community.” 

“And why is that? What’s so unique about Falcon?”

“Well, if you look closely,” said Sam, adjusting his hand, so Riri could see, “you’ll notice that Falcon’s shell coils in a counter-clockwise direction. Now, most snails, I’d say 99% of them, their shells coil in the opposite direction.”

“So, is he a different species?” asked Riri, as Sam picked up a little dish of lettuce with his free hand.

“No, actually, they’re the same as any other snail you’d find in your garden,” Sam replied.

“I’m sorry,” Riri said, and even though Sam knew the interruption was staged, it felt natural. “I have to ask, Dr. Wilson, why do you keep referring to Falcon as ‘them’?”

“Well, it’s a little known fact that snails are hermaphrodites,” Sam told her. “A lot of snail keepers default to ‘him’, but that just doesn’t seem right to me, you know? Falcon’s not a ‘he’ or a ‘she.’ They’re a ‘them’.”

“Huh,” said Riri. She reached out tentatively.

“You can feed them,” Sam said, offering her the lettuce. “Go on.”

Riri laughed a little when Falcon raised their head towards the tiny piece of lettuce that she held out. “He’s— they’re cute,” she said. “So, you were saying before we aired that Falcon is lonely. Why are they lonely?”

“Oh, that.” Sam chuckled, a little ruefully. “Poor Falcon. Like any snail, they want to mate, but, you see, the way the shell grows determines the layout of a snail’s entire body. Which means that Falcon’s backwards, and the way they mate is, too. They’re basically a mirror-image of other snails. So they’ve tried, but—”

“But their bits are in the wrong position,” Riri concluded.

“More or less,” Sam agreed. “They need another counter-clockwise snail to mate with, and those are incredibly rare.”

“So Falcon’s one of a kind,” said Riri.

“One of a kind,” Sam repeated, watching Falcon inch up his wrist. “But if I can find another snail that Falcon can mate with, then I’d be interested in studying the offspring, to find out if the counter-clockwise orientation is a genetic trait that can be passed down, or if it’s a deficiency that will eventually disappear over the course of evolution. This research may even teach us some things about human anatomy, about organ placement in the body.”

“Fascinating,” said Riri, completely sincere.

She asked a few more questions about Sam’s research and fed Falcon a bit more lettuce, before she wrapped up the interview.

“All right, well, thanks for being on the show, Dr. Wilson.”

“Thank you for your interest,” Sam countered. “Falcon doesn’t get too many visitors.”

“Hopefully that will change,” said Riri. “So, D.C., the next time you see a snail, check which way their shell coils. They could just be the one and only match for Howard University’s most eligible bachelor. That’s all for today, we’ll catch you later on Science Talk, only on WHUR-FM.”

Riri stopped recording and exhaled, her shoulders flopping down with visible relief. “Was that okay? I’m still learning. We could do it again if—”

“It was great,” Sam assured her. “Did you get everything you needed?”

“I think so,” Riri replied, and she checked her notes. “I think our listeners are gonna eat this up.”

Sam tried to coax Falcon back onto the cuttlefish bone in their tank. “Really? A snail story?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” said Riri. “My director says human interest stories carry a lot of weight. Especially with details, like how your snail is lonely.”

“Did you hear that, little buddy?” Sam asked Falcon. “Your loneliness is jumpstarting Riri’s career.”

Riri snorted. “Yeah, like I’m gonna be a radio host. I’m switching to MIT next year if I can get in. I want to study robotics.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, and Riri crossed her arms, shifting into a more defensive position.

“What? You don’t think I should?”

“Whoa, I never said that,” said Sam, raising his hands as he backed away to the sink to scrub up. “I think that’s fantastic. MIT needs more women like you. STEM does in general, actually.”

Riri blinked once, twice. “Oh.”

“And if any boy there gives you lip, you just call him a _Riccardoella limacum_.”

“And that is...?”

“Slug mite,” Sam replied. “Very nasty.”

“Okay,” Riri laughed. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You’ll let me know when it airs?”

“Yeah, I’ll email you,” said Riri, as she packed up her gear. “See you later, Dr. Wilson.”

“See you later, Ms. Williams. And don’t think I’m gonna let you slide on this week’s lab report on account of you making me a celebrity.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Riri said airily, and she headed out the door.

Sam watched her go, his smile fading slowly as her quick footsteps receded. He sank onto the chair beside Falcon’s tank and watched the snail make their way along the cuttlebone, ingesting some of its essential calcium. The room seemed quiet suddenly without another voice. There were a lot of things that Sam could be doing right then — marking his seniors’ reports, planning the next lesson for his first-years, working the kinks out of his latest grant proposal — but for the moment, he just sat, watched his favorite snail go about their life, and thought about about Falcon being lonely.

“I don’t think you’re the only one that is,” he sighed, and he stood up to get back to work.

* * *

A week after Riri’s segment aired, Sam was prepping microscope slides for his freshmen when somebody knocked on the door to the lab. He set the microscope slide down and headed over to answer it, assuming that one of his grad students had forgotten their key.  Instead, he found himself face-to-face with a faculty member that he’d never seen before.

Sam only knew he was faculty because of the ID badge poking out from under the bottom of his faded Sex Pistols t-shirt. If not for that, Sam would have wondered— well, he wasn't sure what he might have wondered.

“Can I help you?” he asked skeptically.

“I’m looking for Dr. Wilson?” the punk replied.

“You found him,” Sam said, leaning against the door frame. “I’m Sam, what can I do for you?”

“Hi,” said the stranger. “Steve Rogers, I teach art and art history. Protest movements of the 20th century.”

“Yeah, I kinda put that together,” Sam commented. Now that he thought about it, the eye makeup, the white-blond undercut, the tattoos and paint-stained jeans all screamed art department. “Don’t see too many of you over here in bio, though.”

“No, I’d imagine not,” Steve agreed. “But I heard your interview on the radio last week.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Sam. He narrowed his eyes, still not convinced that this wasn’t some elaborate inter-campus prank. “Interested in snails, are you?”

“Actually, yeah,” Steve said, pushing his glasses up with one finger. “Are counter-clockwise snails really so rare?”

 _Gee, let me ask my Ph.D._ , Sam thought, but he bit his tongue. “They are. Very rare,” he answered instead. “Why?”

“Because I have one,” Steve replied.

Sam blinked, taken aback. “You... really?”

“Really,” Steve confirmed. “It’s— well, I guess you could say he’s my pet.”

Sam had never met anyone (else) past the age of ten who kept snails as pets. “ _You_ have a pet snail?”

Steve looked down, his cheeks coloring. It created a bizarre juxtaposition with his tough-guy gear, but Sam found it oddly endearing, and he knew right away that there was no hoax, that Steve was being honest with him.  

“It was kind of an accident,” Steve explained. “I almost stepped on him, the day I moved to D.C. last year, and since I used to have snails when I was kid, I thought it was a sign, so I kept him.”

“All alone?” Sam asked. “Because—”

“They’re very social,” Steve finished with a placating gesture. “I know. Don’t worry, I got two more at the pet store. Didn’t realize that Cap couldn’t mate with them, though. Not until I heard your interview. I mean, I clean eggs out every week, but I guess that’s the other two, huh?”

“Has to be,” Sam agreed, still a little dumbfounded.  

“Anyway,” Steve went on. “Most of my friends are still in New York, so the snails are... company, you know?”

Sam huffed out a breath and glanced around his lab, at the tanks filled with dozens of snails all around them. “Believe me, I know.”

Steve chuckled. “I had a feeling you’d understand.”

“I sure do,” Sam said with a smile.

Steve looked up, smiling as well. Sam felt a curious pull in the bottom of his stomach. He didn’t want to look away, and, apparently, neither did Steve, because they held each other’s gaze for a couple beats too long.

“So, you have this snail,” Sam prompted at last, clearing his throat. “You think they’re counter-clockwise. Have you got a picture?”

“No, sorry, I don’t,” said Steve. “But I could bring him to your lab some time, or you could come over and see— unless, well. You probably have work to do.”

“No,” said Sam, and then, hearing how desperate he sounded, he tried to backpedal. “I mean, yes, there’s always work to do, but, learning about a potential mate for Falcon, that’s part of my work, so it’s okay.”

He was cringing internally as he finished his sentence, but Steve didn’t seem to mind. “Okay,” he echoed. “I teach until 6:30, maybe we could get a coffee and head over?”

“Or dinner?” Sam suggested, not letting himself hesitate. He bit his lip, waiting—

“I’d like that,” Steve replied. He dragged his eyes away from Sam, checked his watch. “I’ve got to prep. Meet you back here in a bit?”

“It’s a date,” said Sam.

Steve looked him up and down and smiled. “I hope so. For Falcon’s sake.”

“Yes,” Sam agreed. “For Falcon.”

* * *

“Good morning, D.C., this is Riri Williams with a special follow-up edition of Science Talk on WHUR-FM. You might remember, a few weeks ago, I told you about Falcon, Howard University’s loneliest snail. Falcon, if you recall, possesses the unique honor of a counter-clockwise shell, meaning that they can’t mate with other snails. Well, I’m back in the bio lab today to bring you some exciting news. Joining me are Dr. Sam Wilson and Prof. Steve Rogers. Hi, fellas, what can you tell us?”

“Well, Ms. Williams, I’m happy to report that Falcon has a found a mate. Against all odds, there was a snail for them all along, right here in D.C.”

“Is that right? Where did you find one?”

“I didn’t. Steve— uh, Prof. Rogers did. Named them the Captain, for some weird reason.”

“Like it’s any weirder than Falcon. I almost stepped on Cap, and I’ve been keeping them as a pet now for almost a year.”

“A pet snail? You?”

“Yeah, don’t tell my first-years. It’d ruin my image.”

Sam laughed as Steve groaned and turned the kitchen radio down. “I don’t really sound like that, do I?”

Sam chuckled and reached past Steve to turn it back up. “Nah. Trust me, you sound much cuter on the radio.”

Steve smacked him in the ass on his way to the toaster. “Gee, thanks.”

“So, Dr. Wilson, have Cap and Falcon mated yet?”

“Not yet, but they had some, well, I’d guess you’d say, flirtatious encounters last night, which I think is a positive sign.”

“How is it that snails flirt, Dr. Wilson?”

Sam was impressed that Riri managed to edit out Steve’s snort. He set the plates of eggs down on the table and came around to stand behind Steve while he buttered their toast. He placed his hands on Steve’s hips, held him close, as his radio self went on.

“Mostly through touch. They caress each other, touch tentacles, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds very romantic,” Riri commented, sounding a little smug. Sam remembered that he and Steve had been standing very close together, a snail on each palm, when she said that.

“It is,” Radio Sam said. “But, like anything with snails, it’s a slow process.”

Steve groaned again and pushed back, leaning into Sam’s body and tilting his head back until his hair brushed Sam’s neck and cheek. It smelled good, and the texture was so soft now that most of last night’s styling gel had been worked out through sweat and sleep. Sam loved it.

“Thank God we’re not snails,” Steve murmured, as Riri signed off and the broadcast ended.

Sam wrapped himself around Steve, kissed every inch of him that he could find. “I couldn’t agree more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, Hekkenfeldt, for beta & cheerleading. (Also for asking, "Wait, are Sam and Steve _snails_??" when I sent you the news story with the misleading message, "imagine your otp." Whoops. That would have been a very different story.)


End file.
